


Victory

by gemini_cole



Category: British Actor RPF, Henry Cavill - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2139411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemini_cole/pseuds/gemini_cole





	Victory

Victory

            Henry stood with his back to the bar, surveying the crowd that milled around him. The end of the season wrap party was in full gear. The cast and crew, friends and loved ones packed the club, which was closed to the public for the event. Loud dance music and laughter filled the air, and the sense of relief after finishing a long season was palpable. So where was she? Poppy had yet to appear, and she was the only thing Henry really cared about seeing.

            There was a sudden commotion near the entrance and Henry knew that she was finally here. He took a swig of his beer as he watched, Poppy’s long auburn hair flowing in waves down her back, shining against the sheer white top she was wearing. She smiled as she stopped occasionally to hug someone, or say hello, laughing as something someone said. Henry couldn’t hear her from his vantage point, but he knew by the way she tossed her head back it was that laugh that he loved, a big belly laugh that somehow managed to be throaty and sexy and warm and inviting all at the same time.  Suddenly, as Henry watched, a tall, thin, blonde guy walked up behind Poppy and wrapped his arms around her. As Poppy looked up at him adoringly, she introduced him to the gathered crowd. Henry watched as the mystery man shook hands with everyone, most of who looked impressed. Though he himself didn’t recognize him, Henry suspected this was someone “important.” As if she sensed him, Poppy looked up suddenly, meeting Henry’s gaze. He put down his beer, intent on walking over to her; but like a gazelle sensing a panther on the Serengeti, she grabbed for the blonde’s hand, pulling him out on the dance floor, hoping to get lost in the crowd.

            “C’mon! I wanna dance!” Poppy yelled, squeezing Matt’s hand. She hoped he would just go with it, but she couldn’t be too sure. He wasn’t what you’d call “quick on the draw.” Regardless, Poppy swayed her hips, glancing over her shoulder at Matt, who simply stood there, grinning like an idiot. Sighing, she knew she’d have to lead if she wanted him to follow. Grabbing his hands and placing them on her hips, she swayed her hips in time to the music; reaching up with one hand she wound it around his neck, pulling him in closer as they began to move in time to the music together. Poppy only hoped it was enough for Henry to get the hint, and leave her alone for the evening. Just this one last night, then she could make a clean getaway. She had a movie to shoot in North Carolina during the hiatus from the show, and she’d made sure to keep absolutely silent about it, even though it made her want to scream. It hadn’t been formally announced yet, but it was her first feature film, the lead in the newest book-to-film by a popular novelist. It was sure to make her the “next big thing,” and she hoped that the summer away from Henry would be exactly what they both needed to get past this “thing” between them, whatever it was.

            Suddenly, Poppy felt a vise grip on her arm. She turned and looked up to see Henry’s face, his eyes dark and stormy blue as he glared down at her. Like the flick of a switch though, he regained control, his features smoothing out like a sheet of silk as he extended his free hand, offering to shake Matt’s hand. As he simultaneously extracted Poppy from Matt’s grip, he introduced himself, shouting to Matt, “sorry, mate. Poppy and I are needed for a cast photo upstairs. Open bar, help yourself!” Poppy barely had time to glance back apologetically to Matt as she felt herself being ushered along by Henry, her face smarting with embarrassment. One hand was like a cuff around her wrist and the other was on her lower back, pushing her intently across the dance floor and up the stairs to the private second floor of the club.

            Henry unceremoniously shoved Poppy into an empty office, slamming the door behind them. “You didn’t really think that was going to work, did you, Buttercup? I’m an actor, not an idiot.”

            Poppy turned back to face him, crossing her arms across her chest as she sighed. “ I haven’t the foggiest clue what you are talking about.”

            “The blonde with the Bieber hair. So not your type, Princess. You could do much better.” Henry leaned against a desk in the room, one leg casually draped over the other, arms crossed as he watched her. He could almost see Poppy’s wheels turning in her head as she tried to figure a way out of this.

            _Arrogant prat,_ Poppy thought to herself as she looked around the office, noticing anything other than him. Damned if he would get the time of day after embarrassing her like that. “Oh and I suppose you know what my type is, do you Henry? Please, _enlighten_ me!” Her words dripped with sarcasm as she took a slight step backwards towards the door. Maybe she could make a run for it. Not the most adult thing to do, but hey desperate times, she thought to herself.

            “It doesn’t matter.” Henry stated quietly.

            “What doesn’t matter?” Poppy asked, sighing with frustration as she took another small step backwards.

            “Your type. It doesn’t matter what it is, because now I’m here. And I’m going to do whatever I have to do, to prove to you that this thing between us is going to happen.” Henry watched with satisfaction as Poppy’s shocked expression took hold, her entire being going still.

            She shook her head after a moment as though clearing her thoughts. She finally looked at him with contempt. “This _thing_ , as you called it? It already happened. Twice. And every time, I told you it cannot happen again. How that translates with you, I don’t know. But for me, it translates into a mistake that I made once and was stupid enough to repeat. You might not be stupid, Henry; but apparently I am. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date to get back to.” She turned, yanking on the door, intent on freeing herself as quickly as possible.

            Before she could make her escape, Henry was behind her, slamming the door shut once again. With one hand he swept her hair back, leaning in to kiss her neck. As he nuzzled her, grazing her earlobe, he whispered, “That’s where you are wrong sweetness. You aren’t stupid, but you are far more stubborn than I give you credit for. And I will prove it to you, just give me time.” He stepped closer, as one hand snaking up her side, cupping her breast, tweaking her nipple, clearly visible through the flimsy silk of her top.

            Poppy bowed her head as she took in Henry’s words, his breath searing her sensitive skin. She bit her lip to keep from moaning as he kissed and suckled the spot beneath her ear that always made her weak. _How does he remember, after this short amount of time_ , she wondered to herself. Almost against her own will, Poppy found herself canting her hips backward, brushing against Henry, already rock hard and ready for her. She heard him groan oh so quietly in her hair, and just like that she knew she was lost. She could not do this again. Or could she? Like a last sumptuous dessert before a diet, maybe this would make her leaving easier. She turned slightly, murmuring, “Kiss me, Henry.”

            He didn’t need to be asked twice. He turned her gently, so she was facing him, her back to the door, as he leaned in, crushing his lips against hers. She responded instantly, her hands in his hair, pulling herself up to him, sucking gently on his lower lip, biting it as they moved together. Henry deepened their kiss as he slowly reached down, cupping her ass, lifting her, guiding her legs around his waist, as he tasted her. She carried the taste of mint and chocolate on her tongue and smelled like vanilla and some sort of spice. It was a heady combination, one that he knew he wasn’t used to yet, and might spend the rest of his life trying to be.

As he kissed down her neck and along her jawline, Henry unbuttoned her top, wanting, needing to see more of her. Nestling his face in her cleavage, he ran his tongue along the lace edging of her bra as Poppy began unbuttoning his shirt, tossing it to the floor, kissing and biting his neck, whimpering quietly as Henry’s teeth grazed her nipple, first one then the other, in a ritual display of appreciation and possession that secretly thrilled Poppy. She moaned and arched against his mouth, grinding her hips against him, aching for some relief.

He smiled to himself, as his hands slid under Poppy’s skirt. He knew he had her right where he wanted her. As she tightened her legs around his waist, he groaned in her ear, “you sure you want this, sweetness? We can still stop at anytime, save you from another _mistake_.”

Poppy moaned as Henry’s fingertips traced her slit through her know soaked panties. “Shut up, and fuck me, would you?”

Henry didn’t need to be asked twice. He quickly ripped off the sodden slip of silk she called panties, flinging them to the floor as he plunged two fingers deep inside her soaking wet pussy. Working them in and out, he watched as Poppy moaned, biting her lip. That was always his favorite part. She arched her back, tightening her grip around him. _Fuck she felt so good_ , he thought. He wanted to be inside her, badly.

He watched the disappointment flicker across her face as he slowly withdrew his fingers. Her eyes fluttered open, she was gasping for breath, moaning quietly. As she watched, Henry slowly put his fingers in his mouth savoring the taste of her. Her eyes widened as she watched, and she gasped and he moaned and chuckled quietly. “Fuck I have missed that taste. So good.”

That sight alone made Poppy want to give up all her plans, and just stay here letting Henry bring her to orgasm over and over again. He made her feel so desirable, so sexy. It could be addicting. But these feelings never lead anywhere. Reigning in her disappointing trail of thoughts, she leaned in, whispering sweetly sarcastic, “Henry, be a love and fuck me before people realize we’re gone and come looking for us, won’t you? “

Henry grinned devilishly at her; he didn’t need to be asked twice. As she reached down to unzip him, he gently brushed her hands away. She instead threaded them through his hair, tugging on his curls as she kissed and licked his neck. Henry gripped the base of his cock, slowly stroking it against her. “Poppy, look at me. Look me in the eyes. This is you and me, sweetness. This is why we work.”

As he said the words, he plunged in, deep inside her, filling her so completely, she wanted to cry. Slowly he moved, pumping his hips, rocking against her as she held on for dear life. One hand in his hair, the other, gripping his shoulder, the last time this had happened she’d left little half moon marks that had lasted for days. He didn’t even mind, just smirked to himself as the make-up artists at work tut-tuted him about it. He wore them like a badge of pride. Poppy bit him, sucking hard on the tendons in his neck as he picked up speed. “Fuck,” he spat out, “you feel so fucking good. Come for me, baby. You know you want to, I can see it. Tell me you love it as much as I do.”

Poppy shuddered at his words, moaning, sobbing for breath. She couldn’t hold out any longer. “Yes, yes yes, I do! I love it. Oh fuck yes!” She came apart in his arms, clenched around him, holding him tightly. He stroked her hair out of her face, as he could feel her trembling. Gently he kissed her shoulder, her forehead, her temple, waiting for her to come back down to earth. He felt like a king, celebrating a victory. He had finally won her over.

But it was not to be. A shift in temperature in the room, almost like a sea change. Suddenly she pulled back, sliding down his body as her shaking legs met the floor. She smiled timidly at him as she crossed the room, checking her smeared mascara in a mirror. Quietly, Henry turned to grab his shirt, slipping it on. He began buttoning it as he regarded her. She turned, walking for the door.

“We gotta get back to the party. People are probably starting to talk.”

“Fuck the party, _we_ need to talk.”

“No, Henry. Don’t. You don’t want me. You think you do, but you don’t, ok? Let’s not make this any harder than it has to be. I’m going to go. Wait five minutes, then follow, ok?”

“Poppy..just wait, just a second, please, listen…”

Before he could finish, she was out the door, heading down the stairs, he tried to run after her, but the last he saw was of Poppy, running for the entrance, a confused Matt looking from the door to the stairs. His gaze turned dark when he saw Henry, disheveled and confused, standing at the top of them.

 


End file.
